


Passing Through A Screen Door

by Starthewolf1106



Series: Your House Is Not A Home [2]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Dark Peter Parker, Gen, Human Experimentation, Hurt Peter Parker, Kid Peter Parker, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 18:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19339693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starthewolf1106/pseuds/Starthewolf1106
Summary: I've been looking for,The tears in a screen door,(Tears in a screen door)I've been waiting forAnother disaster(Another disaster)I was kinda hoping you'd stay,I was kinda hoping you'd stay.--Tears in a screen door, The Wonder Years.





	Passing Through A Screen Door

It happened on one of  _those_ nights. One of the nights where Peter's monster would take him to an old warehouse, filled with other monsters. Monsters that had white powder and empty needles littered around their unconscious bodies; monsters that drank until their anger overwhelmed them. 

Monsters that would try to feel in control by hurting others, monsters that took out their wrath on the innocent.

Most of the monsters weren't entirely at fault. Most did the only thing they knew how to do; the only thing that they grew up on. 

They abused others, because that's what others did to them. Whether it be bullies, family, or fake friends that betrayed them one too many times, they took out their feelings of hollowness on others.

These monsters were raised on anger and fear; hollow resentment for the life that they never got to live. Many sought the control that they lost long ago, or never had at all. 

Creeping shadows didn't hide creatures of the night here. Closets didn't hide demons, and the dark, musty rooms held no fairytale horror. 

The 'monsters' here hid from the real monsters; the ones that abused and hurt children in the worst ways possible.

There was a certain hierarchy in the chaos.

At the bottom were thieves and muggers, who stole to make up for the lack of supplies growing up.

A step up from that were the people who beat up others. Bullies and random aggressors who learnt from their parents that violence was the only way.

Drug dealers and addicts were the middle ground. Those who rely on drugs and alcohol to escape from their own monsters. Those who couldn't cope with existence, and those who refused to accept the cold, unbearing reality of life.

Arsonists were the the next step up. People addicted to the blazing destruction of a fire, like a moth drawn to a flame. Those who set things on fire to hide their insecurities and hurt; those who found a certain peace in the screaming of others as embers reached the sky.

Rapists and murders were the top of the food chain. Those who killed and ruined others in the worst ways; those who broke others to feel alive. These people inflicted everlasting damage to feel in control. Sometimes, they take out their pent up frustration on others, and sometimes they simply crave the power it gives them.

At the very top was his monster. The monster that ruled all monsters. His monster took away the shining light inside children and molded them into monsters; monsters that would grow up to become just like him.

Perhaps it was because someone did it go him. Maybe it was because he felt powerless, or maybe he was taking out his emotions. Maybe he did it just because he could; the thrill of the act adding on to his list of addictives.

So, when his monster dragged him to the other monsters, he hid. 

Tonight was no different. He was just hiding in a corner, snuggling up to the shadow creatures for protection that they couldn't give.

Then, there were hands on his mouth, and people were dragging him away. He screamed, but the sound of music drowned out everything. 

His kidnapper's threw him into the back of a truck. The next few hours were a blurr of darkness and odd sounds.

Eventually, the truck stopped, and he was being dragged out. 

They shoved him into a small room, with nothing but a lonely spider.

He was fascinated by the creature. Black, with neon green streaks and unnatural markings.

If Peter listened closely, he could hear the Spider sing. He could hear it sing of loneliness and abandonment; of destruction and revenge. It sang of fire and ice; light and dark. It hummed the silent lullaby of a creature backed into a corner; the song of an animal forced to the edge.

Peter listened to the Spider, because he could understand. He related, because he too spent his life hiding from monsters. He listened, because the spider spoke of the sorrowful life that he lived.

"To become god is the loneliest achievement of all." The spider said. 

"Reality is but a speck of dust. So fragile, and yet with so many possibilities. You can either break it, or you can submit to it's vicious rule. You can resist, or you can live your life in denial of anything different." The spider whispered. Peter stared, captivated by the words.

The spider told him a story. A legend; a fairytale; a myth.  Whatever it was, the spider wove the details like silk; creating a delicate image beauty.

It spoke of the beginning, and it spoke of the end. It focused on the middle, yet covered the other parts. It explained the meaning, and it showed him the truth.

The spider crawled into his arm and bit him. Too captivated by the story, Peter didn't realize.

"You have been given a gift, young one. Use it to prevent anything like this from happening again. Your mission is to create a safer world; to make a home that you yourself didn't have the luxury of living in." It explained, hushing him as he collapsed to the ground.

Gasping, he writhed on the cold tile. Vision darkening, he listened as the spider sang it's song of numb sorrow and broken loneliness.

He could distinctly feel arms lifting him into a truck. He could hear the rumbling of an engine. 

Fading in and out of concconscious, Peter barely recognized that he was being dragged through the house that he grew to resent.

He could hear his monster talking. He could feel agonizing pain, and everything was too much. He could feel himself falling through an innescapable relapse.

13 and too young to die, but deep down Peter knew he had been day-dreaming of this moment. The moment where he was free to finally drift away; free from the living hell and personified nightmare that haunted every second of his life. The moment where he would be free of the pain, the sorrow, the exhaustion, hunger, anger, loneliness, cold, and the wicked cynicism of his existence.

Drifting off to sleep, he couldn't help to hope that he wouldn't wake up.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I wrote this while half asleep so dont mind the spelling errors. Also, there's this really cool book I've been reading called Science 101: Forensics. It offers insight and information on different forensic sciences, helps you understand different criminal mentalities, and teaches you about how late enforcement does their job. It really cool, there's also a Biology and Ecology book.  
> As always, have a great day/night!


End file.
